


Life Lesson the Thirty-Fifth

by Luckyhai5



Series: Conkersverse: Secrets of the Shire [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, M/M, Possessive!Thorin, Thorin POV, bilbo is a damn tease, bilbo loves elves, even though he doesnt know it, i have exams next week, jealous!Thorin, secrets of the shire, someone make this madness stop, thorin luuurves bilbo, tomatoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:23:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luckyhai5/pseuds/Luckyhai5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Conkersverse shenanigans continue.<br/>Rivendell. Jealous Thorin. More ridiculous madness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Lesson the Thirty-Fifth

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my little dwarlings, and thank you for reading!

Damned wizard has tricked me into going into Rivendell.

Stupid Gandalf. Bet he couldn't forge a spoon.

We were running from an Orc pack, and he directed us towards a hidden passage in the rock. I, in a rather kingly manner, directed the lads to safety before jumping as quickly as I could and praying to Mahal that they wouldn't grab me by my majestic braided hair and haul me back up to be eaten by wargs. Mahal came through for me, which is no less than I deserve after the past century. It has not been fortunate, all in all.

He owes me.

We made our way along the passage, and the Orcs didn't follow - didn't know why, but I didn't really question it.

Damn tree-shaggers, killing  _my_ Orcs.

*Sigh*

Hidden Valley is insipid but bearable, I suppose, if you ignore all the tree-shaggers. Everything is pretty and delicate.

Can visualise happy elves dancing around and tending to trees and such. Now I understand why they are the way they are, if this is where they live. 

Ugh.

I almost pity them.

Hobbit looks like he is in heaven.

Understandable.

He's never seen Erebor.

That being said, would rather like to divert his attention. He seems to be enjoying this visit far too much.

I look around at the rest of the Company.

Ah, yes, they all look appropriately angry, suspicious and disgusted.

Can always rely on Dwalin to look grumpy.

That's why I keep him around, in part.

Would rather like to see the hobbit look at me like that.

He looks like this is the most amazing place he's ever seen.

Sudden urge to grab him and run up the passage, carrying him like a parcel.

Anyway, he looks awed.

Now it dawns on me.

A terrible,  _terrible_ thing. 

We are in Rivendell.

_We won't need any firewood._

\---

We are invited to dinner with bigshot-elf and co.

Bigshot-elf is called Lord Elrond. I already knew this, but bigshot-elf is easier and more fitting anyway.

Dinner is, frankly, awful. Leaves are not for eating. They are primarily to provide something to walk over, to make the dirt is less boring. 

That is the function of leaves.

Not a steak in sight.

Not even a chop.

Well, the hobbit seems to be enjoying himself.

He's banging on to Bofur about tomatoes.

Something about prizewinning tomatoes.

I wonder how tomatoes could possibly compete with each other although, from what I now know of the Shire, I expect it would involve them bludgeoning each other to death.

Hobbits are strange creatures.

Poor miner looks very confused, I don't blame him.

The hobbit's love of tomatoes seems to exceed even his love of tree-shaggers.

Must suppress sudden urge to snatch them all from his plate.

Annoying, tinkly music is being played in the dining hall.

Bloody elves.

Wouldn't know rubies from garnets, for all their fancy leaf-eating, tinkly-music-playing, tree-shagging ways.

\---

We sleep here tonight, then we have to sneak out tomorrow evening while Gandalf is in a meeting.

Fine, don't invite me, I'm only the King Under the Mountain after all, I see how it is.

Why does everyone love the bloody elves so much?

I turn the corner towards the rooms we have been assigned.

I see Bilbo conversing easily with an elf.

Elf is tall and irritatingly blonde and pretty, all curves and billowing silk.

Bilbo has no business talking to enchanting-looking elf women.

This won't do.

"Bilbo!" I bark, for he did tell me to call him so, "I must speak with you."

Hobbit frowns at me.

For once, could he just do as I ask?

"Urgently." I say, creating tension by lowering my voice and narrowing my eyes.

Instant atmosphere.

I'm just that good. What can I say?

Concern flits across his features, as he bids the tree-shagger good day and shuffles over.

"What is it, Thorin?" I recall that I _did_ give him permission to address me by my first name, "What's wrong?"

Oh, he is so adorable when he's worried.

Can I give him another hug now? I take it that's a thing we do.

Can you just give hugs whenever you like, or does there have to be context?

Don't really recall the rules. Must ask Dwalin to make subtle enquiries.

Will also test theories on conveniently situated hobbit, perhaps later.

Have many theories I would like to test on the hobbit...

"I do not think it is appropriate for you to," I glower, intensely, "Fraternize with the elves."

Hobbit's face goes blank.

Then he widens his eyes, anger evident as he puffs himself up.

Aw.

"Just because you are prejudiced against them doesn't mean I have to be!" He yells at me.

Why is he defending the tree-shaggers?

Why does he love them all so damn much?

I begin to see red.

"And why is it you owe the tree-shaggers such loyalty?" I bellow, wincing inwardly when I realise that I just yelled 'tree-shaggers' rather loudly, in _Rivendell_ , of all the bloody places.

Hobbit is now tomato-coloured. He must be very happy.

Or not.

"How dare you! What exactly are you implying about me, you... you... dwarf!" He spits the word _dwarf_.

I roar, "Exactly what you think I'm implying, Halfling!" Too late, I realise I promised not to call him that.

Oh dear.

This was not the plan.

What was the plan?

Ah, that's the problem. I didn't make a plan. 

Life lesson the thirty-fifth:  _never talk to hobbits without a plan._

"Sweet Yavanna help me, save me from the blockheadedness of Thorin..." He paused to catch his breath, before snarling, "Thorin Stupidshield!"

He storms away (again).

I am speechless.

Thorin Stupidshield.

_Thorin Stupidshield._

I then realise that the whole Company have their heads sticking out of the doorway, grinning like the lunatics they are.

Dwalin is the first to start laughing.

Why do I keep him around again?

 ---

Am currently searching for hobbit.

Rivendell is bloody confusing.

Damn stupid elves.

Can still hear Bilbo yelling, "Thorin Stupidshield!" His voice rings in my ears.

Am strangely upset.

Rankled, yes, irritated, yes, but also upset.

Turn corner to see hobbit talking to the same elf woman as before.

Oh for the love of Mahal, this fuckery has to stop.

Feeling like a petulant dwarling, I march up to him.

He ignores me, elf seems bemused.

*Sigh*

I don't have time for this.

Without warning, I pick him up, hoisting him over my shoulder as he protests and the elf snorts in a rather undignified fashion.

Ignore his protests. He squirms, which I do not find wholly disagreeable.

I wander around until I find the rooms we have been given by bigshot-elf to sleep in, ignoring Bilbo's quips about my sense of direction.

Trust him to be sassy while being carried over my damn shoulder.

We won't need to slay Smaug, two minutes with the burglar and he'll be so out-sassed he'll just roll over.

I take him into my chambers, which I will be sharing with Dwalin (who I suspect is currently in Ori's chambers, where they are fucking like Rhosgobel rabbits) locking the door and placing him down.

He seems to explode, yelling and jumping.

I'm not listening.

He's adorable.

His hair sort of bounces as he shouts, his little curls jiggling about.

Hmmn...

Would they jiggle in the same way...?

No. Bad train of thought. Must refocus.

_Thorin Stupidshield._

Aha, that's quite a distracting thing to focus on.

Eventually, he calms down, and in a suitably grave and kingly fashion, I growl, "I have found your conduct towards me inappropriate today, Bilbo."

He grins sheepishly. Dammit, I'm melting.

"Ah, this is because I called you Thorin Stupidshield?"

Stiffly, I nod.

"Oh Thorin," I love the way his voice curls around my name, "I didn't mean to upset you, I was just angry that you called me Halfling again. You promised not to." The last phrase is chastising.

I grunt. "Mmn, sorry about that." I mumble.

"That's okay Thorin, I really didn't mean to upset you." He smiles sweetly.

"I didn't say I was upset." I protest.

Hobbit just keeps smiling.

"Could you unlock the door now?"

Ah yes.

I do so, but he sits on the bed instead of leaving.

What?

I am very confused.

"What are you doing?" I ask guardedly.

"Apologising." He smirks. 

My breath catches in my throat.

He couldn't be...?

He smiles bewitchingly.

"Look! Tomatoes!" He grins, pulling a bag of the blasted things from his pocket and offering me one.

IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY.

Damn hobbit.

My earlier realisation haunts me.

_We won't be needing any firewood._


End file.
